


Say It (Out Loud)

by queensguardian



Series: All For The Game Musings [7]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: 5+1 Things, Frottage, Loving friendship, M/M, Neil likes some music, The Foxes care about Neil, Trust, emotional honesty, handjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-03
Updated: 2018-11-03
Packaged: 2019-08-16 22:00:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16503491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queensguardian/pseuds/queensguardian
Summary: If Andrew doesn’t care about things as a coping mechanism, Neil doesn’t like things for the same reason. But he’s allowed to now, and trying new things is less scary with the people he loves.Or: Neil tries new things. Five times with the Foxes, and once with Andrew.





	Say It (Out Loud)

**Author's Note:**

> Neil has never been allowed to try or like things. The Foxes help to remedy this.  
> There is sex in the last section, so just skip that one if you aren't interested. 
> 
> This is perhaps my favorite thing I've written for this fandom, so I really hope you guys enjoy it!  
> Thank you for reading, love you all.

Sometimes Neil felt like the things that should be easy were more difficult than the hard things.  
When Dan suggested a painting class with the girls, Neil wrinkled his nose in response. It wasn’t hanging out with the girls that bothered him, of course not. But...

“Why the long face, Neil? It’s literally just drinking and painting, it couldn’t be easier.”

“I just,” Neil looked a little uncomfortable. “I’ve never painted before.”

The others looked at him, horrified, before their expressions became suspiciously blank.

“Neil, you’re saying you’ve...never painted anything before? Anything at all? Not even when you were little?” Renee spoke a little slowly, as if afraid to startle Neil.

Neil’s ruined cheeks were staining red, and he averted his eyes, shrugging.

“Well then it’s settled,” Allison said loudly, drawing the attention to herself. “Painting and wine it is.”

Which was how they had ended up here, wine in hand and the girls laughing as they attempted to paint what the instructor told them to; a starry night sky similar to Van Gogh’s, with a lamppost shining in the foreground.

Neil was frustrated. “I just don’t see why it doesn’t look like that!”

“Neil, honey, it’s not exy.” Allison said, holding her wine like she was at a ball ready to mingle with the queen, her canvas a mess of color. “It doesn’t have to be perfect. You don’t even have to paint what’s on the picture up there. Just paint whatever comes to mind.”

Dan and Renee were making better progress on their own paintings, and Renee’s actually looked like a pretty decent representation.

Neil scowled, and took a sip of his wine (which he was still not that much of a fan of), before quickly painting over everything he’d done and starting over.  
He popped his neck, rolled his shoulders and took a deep breath, before starting again.

This time he didn’t bother trying to accurately represent the picture; he didn’t even look at it. Instead he just painted streaks of color that he liked, swirling them around the canvas.

In no time at all, it was the end of the session. Allison stole the rest of his wine, and they took their paintings as they walked out to Allison’s car.

“So Neil,” Dan said as they piled in. “Did you like it?”

Neil smiled. “It was fi—uh yeah. I think I did. I’m still not sure about wine though.”

“Oh honey,” Allison drawled, “that’ll change. We’ll make a wine mom out of you yet.”

Dan hummed thoughtfully from her seat. “Neil, I have an idea, but I don’t know if you’ll like it.”

“Shoot,” it was easier to talk to people at night, Neil found. The darkness hid expressions, making everyone more honest. It was safer.

“What if you started saying, out loud, when you like stuff? I know we’ve banned the ‘f’ word, but like, what if you started really trying to acknowledge it when stuff is good? Like just now. ‘I like painting.’ That way we all—including you—know when you like stuff. Because you know you’re allowed to like stuff, right?”

“Christ, you sound like Bee,” Allison said, but then. “It’s a good idea. God knows you need the practice.”

Neil was silent for a few moments. It struck him how little he’d been allowed to have an opinion over the years. Opinions were dangerous. They made you a real person. Thinking about it made him feel a little hollow, like the shell he’d had to be in order to survive. The thought made his decision for him.

“I...I like that idea,” he said, his cheeks flushing a little. He couldn’t help but feel a little foolish.

“That’s great, Neil.” Renee spoke up, nodding her approval in the twilight.

It felt like they were teaching him how to be a person; giving him back some semblance of humanity. It felt dangerous.

When they got home, Neil took his painting carefully with him up to his dorm, pulling the door quietly closed behind him.

Andrew was lying on a beanbag chair, and Neil could hear voices from their dorm room suggesting that Nicky and Kevin were in there, probably talking about Exy.

Andrew quirked an eyebrow at him, and gestured lazily with a finger, which made Neil smile and close the distance between them.

Neil dropped down onto his knees in front of Andrew, proudly showing Andrew his disaster of a painting, which Andrew predictably didn’t comment on.

He hooked a finger in Neil’s collar, pulling him close.

“Yes or no?”

“Yes.” Neil closed the distance between the two, and they kissed softly, neither of them willing to do anything else with their family so close.

Andrew pulled back, cupping Neil’s cheek tenderly. “You have paint on your face.”

 

___________________________________________

  
  
“Come on, Neil. Just this once? You look amazing in them.” Nicky clasped his hands together as though in prayer, and Neil pursed his lips.

“I don’t know, Nicky. I just really don’t know. They’ll draw so much attention.”

“Oh yeah they will.” Nicky’s eyes got a little dreamy for a moment, before he shook himself. “But you don’t have to worry about that anymore anyway. Andrew and the rest of us are there to protect you, remember?”

“I don’t need your protection,” Neil murmured, but he was looking down at the short shorts Nicky had forced on him with more consideration now. Nicky had a point. And while he had some scarring on his legs, it wasn’t nearly as bad as his torso. Maybe...

The door opened behind them, and Neil turned his head, only to meet Andrew’s gaze. Andrew paused in the doorway, for just a brief, tiny moment, before stepping into the kitchen.

“Is that what you’re wearing tonight?” He said, sounding as bored as always as he got a water bottle out of the fridge.

“Thinking about it,” Neil said

“Yes!” Nicky crowed at the same time. “Oh, come on Neil. I told you we’d watch your back—metaphorically, Andrew! You don’t have to worry about being noticeable.”

Andrew’s sharp eyes turned on Neil at that. “Do you want to wear them?”

Neil met his gaze steadily, taking in the slight warmth to Andrew’s cheekbones and guessing at the source. He considered for another moment, before nodding.

“Ok. Then wear them. No one will touch you.”

 

Later, all the Foxes were out and Neil was fighting the rising anxiety in his gut. He kept pulling on the ends of the shorts, regretting ever letting Nicky talk him into wearing them.

He was attracting looks from men and women as they wandered through the club toward a booth, but it did nothing except set his teeth on edge. He found himself cataloguing exits, and counting up in French, something he hadn’t had to do in a while.

They found their seats, with Neil crammed tightly between Kevin and Andrew, and he felt the tightness in his stomach ease a little. People couldn’t really look at him this way, and if they did all they would see was the scars on his face and his armbands. That was something he could handle; something he was used to.

Before too long, everyone except Kevin, Andrew and Neil had gone to dance, leaving the three boys to their drinks. Neil didn’t think he could stomach any alcohol, so he was sticking to water, but Kevin was downing his drinks as fast as usual. Neil rested his chin on his hand, switching between observing Kevin amusedly and making a game out of trying to find the Foxes in the dense crowd.

His fingers still found their way to the hem of his shorts under the table. He could feel the booth sticking to his thighs a little, and he wondered how and why girls wore these things all the time. He just felt gross and uncomfortable.

“Stop it,” Andrew’s voice was low in his ear.

He jumped a little, pulling his hand away from the hem of his shorts a little guiltily. He met Andrew’s gaze, which was searching, the heat from earlier noticeably absent.

“Why did you wear them, if you’re so uncomfortable?”

Neil glanced away from Andrew’s eyes, sighing. “I wanted to try. I”m not—I’m not good at this. At being—noticeable. I don’t like being seen.”

It was perhaps one of the most honest things he’d said, and he ducked his head, feeling his ears heat up.

Andrew’s fingers found his chin, pulling his gaze back to him. “Nothing’s going to happen to you. Not with me. It’s ok to be noticed.”

“And I know that—logically, I do. But it’s just. It’s hard, to match that with how I was raised.”

Andrew’s eyes narrowed at that; Neil knew exactly what his thoughts were about his upbringing.

“Come on.” Andrew shoved passed Kevin and stood. Neil followed him a little hesitantly, ignoring Kevin’s slight drunken protesting.

Neil followed without question until he saw that Andrew was headed to the dance floor, and then he stopped. They’d never done this. Neil had danced once or twice with the others when he’d been strong-armed there, but never with Andrew. In fact the only time he’d been on the dance floor with Andrew had been that first, terrible time in the club.

Andrew noticed Neil’s hesitation, and stepped in close so he filled Neil’s field of vision.

“Yes or no? No one will touch you except me. If you want it.”

Neil’s heart rate increased, and he licked his lips. “Yes. Ok, Andrew.”

Andrew took his hand and led him out onto the floor. A song was playing with a thrumming base, so loud it vibrated Neil’s sternum with each beat.

Andrew pulled his hands up so they were resting on his shoulders, and after another “yes or no” he settled his own hands low on Neil’s waist.

At first, they just swayed together, Neil still so very inexperienced with dancing and uncomfortable in the outfit. It was a little easier on the dance floor, surprisingly. Most other people were dressed similarly, helping him blend in more. And with him and Andrew pressed so close, people didn’t try to cut in. In a strange way, it almost felt like they were alone, even surrounded by so many people.

It helped Neil relax a little, the tension easing out of his shoulders. He found himself moving more with the music, following Andrew’s lead and swaying his hips back and forth.

His hands wove their way into Andrew’s hair, and he leaned in until their foreheads were pressed together. Andrew’s fingers tugged on the loops of his shorts until their hips were pressed together and oh. _This_ was much more intimate.

They still moved with the music, but everything was electrified, every touch all molten heat and fireworks.

Andrew leaned further in, pressing the ghost of a kiss to Neil’s mouth before sliding his lips back to Neil’s ear. “You should wear those more often.” Then his lips closed over Neil’s earlobe.

Neil shuddered, feeling his knees weaken a little, his fingers tighten in Andrew’s curls. He pulled Andrew back so their lips could finally crash together in a fierce kiss, and yeah. Maybe the shorts could stay.  


 

 

_______________________________________________

 

 

“Neil, pass me the sriracha please!” Nicky was a whirlwind of movement in the kitchen, whipping cream and boiling potatoes and searing meat at the same time. It was frankly terrifying.

The rest of the Foxes were wisely staying out of the way, but Neil had been walking by on the way back to the living room and didn’t make it past in time.

He reluctantly entered the war zone, and started looking around. “Is it in the fridge?”

Nicky paused in his movement; that same pause all his friends did when he said something sad or pathetic, but enough to make Neil cringe. “No, Neil. It’s in the cupboard over there. Have you ever tried Sriracha?”

Neil just shook his head as he went to grab it from the cupboard where Nicky had said it would be.

Nicky took it from him without further comment, and Neil left the kitchen, willing his ears to stop burning. It was nothing to be ashamed of; it wasn’t his fault that he hadn’t tried many different foods.

He took his seat next to Andrew, and ignored the searching look Andrew gave him. Andrew always saw right through him, most of the time it was mutual. But sometimes he wanted to be invisible.

 

 

When they were all sat down at dinner, Neil got to try Sriracha for the first time with the meat.

He made a little face at the spice, but overall it wasn’t that bad. When he looked up, he saw Nicky eyeing him with humor twisting his mouth, and Neil’s ears were burning again.

“So,” Nicky said a little too loudly. He winked at Neil, which couldn’t be good. Conversation paused easily around them. “What’s everyone’s favorite food? Aaron, go.”

Neil’s heart picked up its pace immediately. He knew that Nicky had only the purest intentions, but that didn’t stop it from being a loaded question.

Aaron eyed Nicky haughtily. “Lasagna.”

“Matt, what about you?”

Matt hummed consideringly. “Probably a tie between my grandma’s meatloaf and Thanksgiving turkey. Dan? Even though I already know.”

Every time Neil trusted the Foxes with new information about his life it was like he was carving away at a piece of the wall protecting him. He really thought he was past this by now.

“Definitely salmon. Mmm I could go for some smoked salmon right now.”

“Mine’s the lobster you can get at this hotel in Monaco.” Allison piped up, a dreamy look coming over her face. “What? I don’t care if it’s predictable. It’s the truth. It’s amazing.”

“What about you Andrew?” Matt asked optimistically.

Andrew leveled a flat look at him. “Cinnamon Vanilla ice cream.”

“Sushi,” Kevin said quietly.

“I love apple pie,” Renee said. “What about you, Neil?”

Neil’s eyes darted around the room, but he couldn’t think of anything. Food hadn’t been something he had a choice about growing up. He didn’t have the option of having favorites. It was eat what was given or take a beating and then eat it anyway. And it was always whatever was cheap and available, which meant he and his mom usually ended up eating canned goods and rice, or anything else they could easily get their hands on. Sometimes they went without, if they were in between money or desperate and on the road. The priority was finding enough to survive on, not luxury. And when he was living on his own in Millport he was dumpster diving more than anything else. If it wasn’t moldy, it was acceptable. He wracked his brain, but he honestly couldn’t come up with a single food that wasn’t just something that he ate because it was there, and he was starting to feel a little panic rise in his chest.

“I don’t have one,” he finally said. Honesty, pulled from him like teeth.

Impressively, the awkward silence only lasted for a few seconds, before Matt took pity on him.

“What about least favorites? I hate Brussels sprouts.” Matt gave a dramatic shudder at the statement, as if Brussels sprouts were about to pop up out from behind a corner to attack him.

This, Neil could do. “If I never ate canned beans again, it would be too soon.”

The rest of them laughed good-naturedly, and the tension was broken.

“What do you have against beans, man? They’re healthy, cheap, and delicious. The magical fruit,” Nicky chuckled as he teased Neil.

“Once, when we were homeless in Italy, we had nothing but canned beans for three weeks straight,” Neil laughed a little at the memory of his mother boxing his ears when he protested eating the cold slimy beans. “My mom beat the shit out of me when she caught me trying to throw them away.”

And just like that, the tension was back. Neil’s heart sank as he realized his misstep.

Next to him, Andrew’s face didn’t change, but his hand clenched on his fork. And Nicky’s face was ashen.

Neil wet his lips. “I...I mean—“

“It’s ok, Neil,” Renee said kindly. “Thank you for trusting us with that. Maybe we should start having a weekly dinner so you can try new foods? No beans, I promise.”

“Ooh that’s _such_ a good idea,” Matt said, his face finally changing from the slightly devastated look that had settled there.

The room erupted into sound as everyone started suggesting things, and talking about their least favorite foods.

Under the table, Andrew’s hand slowly crept over until it was resting on Neil’s thigh. He was clearly giving Neil enough time to stop him, but Neil only laid his hand on top of Andrew’s, tangling their fingers together and accepting the comfort for what it was. He took a shaky breath, willing the urge to run to leave his body.

He still had to remind himself that it was ok if his friends knew things about him now. Even the bad things. And it was ok if they judged his mother. That was something he was working on. He loved his mother. She was the reason he’d survived as long as he did. But she wasn’t a good person, and he didn’t know how to react to the righteous anger regarding her treatment of him.

 

 

That night, back in the dorm, Andrew tugged Neil into his bed, and pulled him snug against his chest.

The cuddling thing wasn’t entirely new, but it still surprised Neil every time Andrew wanted to hold him like this. Kind, soft touch wasn’t something either of them were used to, and Neil had a suspicion that Bee had spoken with Andrew about it, because the reassuring, non-sexual touches had grown more frequent lately.

Neil slowly brought his arms up until they were wrapped around Andrew’s back. They were pressed together from chest to toes, and Neil eased his head down until it was resting against Andrew’s chest so he could listen to his heartbeat, with Andrew’s chin pressed against the top of his head.

He took a few minutes to relax into the pose, but once he did he let out a slow breath, feeling all the tension of the day seep from his body. Andrew was relaxed too, as much as Andrew ever did. They were warm and comfortable and Neil felt as safe as he always did with Andrew. Neil was almost asleep when Andrew cleared his throat.

“Did she hit you all the time?”

“Are you asking?” _Truth for truth?_ As if Neil would deny him either way. But it felt safer, somehow, to give things away this way.

“Yes.”

Neil hummed, debating how to respond. “She had her reasons.”

Andrew’s arms tightened around his torso. “So did Tilda.”

The meaning was clear. _It doesn’t justify it_. And, _You may forgive her but I don’t._

Neil was conflicted. The part of him that was fifteen years old and trying to survive wanted to defend his mother, but another, more selfish part of his heart was full to bursting at the fact that Andrew cared this much about him.

He didn’t respond, just nosed against Andrew’s chest, breathing in his scent. “I like this.”

Andrew sighed against his scalp, and Neil could felt he hot breath against his hair. “Ok.”

 

The next week the group started with babaganoush. Neil liked it.

 

 

 

______________________________________________

 

 

 

  
“Why are we wasting practice time doing this?” Kevin was exasperated, but no one was paying any attention to him.

“We can’t be practicing literally every second, Kevin.” Matt sounded frustrated but resigned. They all knew by now how far Kevin’s obsession extended.

Kevin made a betrayed sound, and they all knew he was thinking that the absolutely could be practicing all the time, and how dare they even assume any different.

“Besides, Neil’s never been to a movie with friends, and it’s a very important life experience that we’re going to give him.” Nicky shot a grin Neil’s way, which Neil didn’t return.

In all honesty, Neil was nervous about the whole thing. Movies were entirely out of the question growing up. When he was still at his father’s house, they were a nebulous thing that he knew other kids got to do but was never brave enough to dare crossing his father for more than once.

When they were on the run, movies were a stupid, unnecessary risk that his mother would never have even thought about.

In a dark movie theater, you can’t see the exits. You don’t know who is behind you or in front of you, and the loud films playing on the screen were a distraction that anyone could take advantage of.

So, Neil had never been. When he’d said as much during a debate over how good some action movie that’d just come out had been, he was met with exhausted but unsurprised stares, and plans had been made.

Now, they were all walking around downtown, meandering their way to the local movie theater as a large group. They would be seeing some movie Neil couldn’t remember the name of (just because they’d convinced him to go didn’t mean they’d convinced him to care about it), and then they’d be getting dinner together. A team bonding experience if ever Neil had heard of one.

He was bringing up the rear of the group with Andrew, trying to fight off the nerves in his stomach that he felt any time he did something his mother would have beat the living hell out of him for.

Andrew was a solid presence at his side; not saying anything or touching Neil but a comforting weight nonetheless.

When they arrived at the movie theater, they got their tickets (Andrew paid for Neil’s before he had the chance to protest), and then Dan and Nicky and Renee went to get snacks while the rest of them went to get seats (“don’t worry Neil, we won’t get you anything sweet”), and then they were settled in a dim theater, waiting for the lights to go out entirely.

Neil had ended up on the end of a row, with Andrew at his side, and Kevin a seat beyond him, followed by the rest of the monsters.

Directly behind Neil was Matt, with the rest of the upperclassmen next to him. Neil had a sneaking suspicion that this seating chart was no accident, but as it gave him the most secure possible vantage point he wasn’t about to complain.

A small bag of popcorn was placed in his lap, and next to him Andrew started munching on something called Dip’N’Dots, which appeared to be some disgusting frozen rainbow concoction, and before he knew it the lights were dimming.

He jumped a little when loud noises poured from the surround-sound speakers with the first trailer, and he tried to calm his rabbit-heart, knowing that in all likelihood both Andrew and Matt had seen the slip-up.

He couldn’t bring himself to eat the popcorn with his anxious stomach, so he held the bag tightly with both hands and forced himself to pay attention to the trailer, counting to ten in in every language he knew.

Another trailer played after the first one, equally as loud, and then another one after that, and Neil was just starting to wonder if there were really supposed to be this many trailers when the opening credits finally rolled and the movie started.

Neil caught himself cataloguing exits over and over, his eyes darting over the dark heads of the audience and searching for any sudden or unpredictable movement. The back of his neck prickled with all the people behind him that he had no way of seeing. Damnit, but this wasn’t supposed to be what he was doing at all.

He had no earthly idea what was happening in the movie, and his popcorn was going cold in his lap, when Andrew started leaning toward him. The movement was infinitesimal; Neil probably wouldn’t have even noticed if he wasn’t so hyper aware of his surroundings.

“Yes or no?” Andrew finally whispered into his ear, and Neil turned to face him, baffled.

He didn’t know what Andrew could possibly want to do in such a public, unsafe space, but he swallowed. “Yes.”

Andrew moved the armrest between them up, and then slowly snaked his arm around Neil’s shoulders, before pulling Neil until he was leaning firmly against Andrew’s side.

Neil flushed with warmth and embarrassment at the gesture of affection, but he didn’t pull away. He felt indescribably safer to have Andrew’s arm around his neck and back, not to mention warmer. He hadn’t even realized how cold the theater was until Andrew was there to warm him up.

He slowly relaxed against Andrew, and didn’t mention it when Andrew reached with his other hand to steal some of Neil’s untouched popcorn.

Now that Neil was unwinding a little, he found he could pay the tiniest bit more attention to the film, where there was a pirate currently swinging around the sails of a ship. He still had no clue what was happening plot-wise, but he could admit that the visuals were a little entertaining.

He didn’t know how long Andrew’s hand had been moving before he noticed, but when he did catch on to the small stroking movement up and down his arm where Andrew’s hand was draped he found himself quite unable to pay attention to the movie again.

He had to resist the urge to hum at the pleasing touch, and instead settled for a sort of aborted wriggling motion against Andrew’s side, like he was burying himself more firmly into his presence.

Andrew didn’t say anything, but his hand stopped momentarily before continuing it’s steady motion. It was so nice, and so warm and comfortable, and Neil found himself completely disinterested in the movie or anything else that was happening around him.

He didn’t realize just how relaxed he was until suddenly the lights were coming back up, and he jolted against Andrew, who only tightened his grip on Neil again.

“What happened?” Neil mumbled, rubbing at his eyes.

Andrew only shrugged, but he didn’t remove his arm.

From a couple seats down, Neil heard an exaggerated sigh that could only have come from Nicky.

“Seriously, only Neil could come to a dark movie theater and take a nap instead of making out.” Nicky complained fondly, and Neil caught money changing hands all around them.

Neil flushed violently, before pulling away from Andrew a little. Any attention to the sexual part of their relationship always made Neil uncomfortable, and this was no exception. Especially since he felt so out of the loop. Was making out in theaters really something people did? How were they comfortable doing that in public? And how was he supposed to know that?

Andrew retracted his arm slowly, before turning a death glare toward Nicky, causing the man to raise his hands placatingly and get up to leave.

Neil was still embarrassed at their situation, but he was starting to feel a little anxious too. Not only had he disobeyed his mother’s wishes by going to a movie theater, but he’d also abandoned every survival instinct he had by fucking falling asleep in one.

He twisted his hands together before standing with Andrew and following the rest of them out of the theater.

 

Back at the dorms later, he made his way up to the roof with Andrew, the heavy feeling still lingering in the pit of his stomach.

They settled themselves, the routine familiar and comforting. Neil held his cigarettes between his hands like always, his eyes on Andrew.

“A man can only have so many issues,” Andrew said, the line by now a kind of joke between them. It was also Andrew’s way of bring up the topic as a question without a question; a way for Neil to answer if he wanted or change the subject.

Neil stayed silent for a few moments. “My mom never let us go in movie theaters. They were dangerous. You never know who’s waiting in the shadows.”

Andrew didn’t respond (he had guessed as much), though his eyes had that same darkness that was there any time Neil brought up his mother.

“It was just. Not only did I go to a movie theater, but I fell asleep in one. Anything could have happened; I could have—“

Andrew scoffed at him, and the small sound he made was enough to stop Neil mid-sentence.

“Come on, Neil. You know why you fell asleep.”

Neil just looked at him, trying to think about an answer and failing. The only thing he could come up with was that he was stupid enough to let his guard down in an enclosed, unguarded area.

Andrew rolled his eyes at whatever he must’ve seen in Neil’s expression. “You fell asleep because you trusted us. You trusted us—Matt and me and the rest of our merry band—to protect you. Like in the club. We had your back. You might be too stupid to do that consciously, but your subconscious must know better.”

Neil stared blankly at him, but the answer made too much sense for him to deny. The relief that washed over him was palpable, and he felt the tension sink out of his shoulders with it.

It wasn’t that he was stupid enough to let his guard down. If he had been alone he would probably never had fallen asleep in a million years. But Andrew was right; his subconscious trusted the Foxes—and more importantly Andrew—with his safety. He’d never had that before.

“Oh,” he said breathlessly. This wasn’t something to be taken lightly. The knowledge that he trusted the Foxes with his life and their own was more than a little overwhelming.

Andrew’s eyes were back to that safe, cold steel, and he flicked away his cigarette before resting his hand lightly not he back of Neil’s neck.

“Yes or no, Junkie?”

 

 

 

_________________________________________

 

 

 

It was after their first game of the season, and Neil was still walking around looking a little like the rug had been pulled out from under him. It made everyone want to hug him all the time, and occasionally he would let them.

He was just sometimes still so surprised to be alive. It would hit him at the stranges moments; when they were all walking together in the fall, with the leaves starting to turn and Matt’s laugh bubbling up at something Neil said, leaving him feeling warm and safe.

It was in Andrew’s presence, the fact that he still wasn’t bored of Neil despite any claims otherwise.

It was even in the way Allison was now insisting that Neil come with her to some orchestral concert in town.

“Allison,” he whined, already knowing the battle was lost but putting up a brave fight anyway. “I don’t like music. You know this. Take Renee. I know she’d like to go with you.”

It was a low blow and Neil knew it; he winced at the eyebrow Allison lifted elegantly in his direction.

“I’m going to ignore that comment, thank you very much. And Neil, baby, you think you hate music. But how much music have you actually listened to?”

“Plenty!” He lied. “Andrew plays it in the car all the time. And it’s playing at the club. And Matt sometimes listens—“

“Listen to me. I’m not about to insult your boy, I’m sure his music is fine. And I’m all for clubbing music every once in a while. But I know for a fact that Matt’s taste in music is garbage. And besides, as much as all that music is good for you to listen to, I’m here to round out your experience. Someone has to make sure you are cultured, and not just in the ways of our dumbass friends. So we’re buying a suit, and we’re going. And I swear to God, Neil, if you argue with me one more time—“

Neil threw up his hands in defeat, and allowed himself to be dragged into a shop for a suit that Allison said was ‘thrown together, we should have gotten it tailored weeks ago.’

 

 

That evening, Neil fiddled with his tie until Andrew came over and undid it, re-tying it in an altogether much smoother knot.

“How do I look?” Neil looked down a little at his boyfriend, scratching nervously at the back of his head.

Andrew gave him a blank look, but sharply tugged on his tie, before pulling Neil down to kiss him.

“Get out of here; I’m not dealing with Allison when you’re late.” He pushed Neil away, and went to watch a movie.

Allison was waiting for him out by her car, wearing a gorgeous dress and looking as effortlessly flawless as usual. She gave him a once over with a clinical eye, before nodding her approval and getting into her car. And that was that, off they went.

They arrived at a well-lit building, with lots of similarly dressed people walking in in pairs and small groups.

Allison had the attendees valet her car, and looped her arm through Neil’s, before showing their tickets to the man at the door and pulling him into the most beautiful room he’d ever seen.

Its ceiling stretched up impossibly high, and he craned his neck to look everywhere, trying to take everything in at once. The walls were covered in rich red velvet, as were the floors and seats. Allison took him up some stairs to their right and into their balcony seats.

From there he could see more of the theater, embellished with gold and beautiful people. Neil felt as though he’d stepped into a 19th century movie set.

“Do you like it?” Allison stage-whispered into his ear; he turned to see her smiling victoriously.

“Nothing’s happening yet,” he mumbled.

“Yeah, but you love this, I can tell. You’re a queen at heart, Neil. And you deserve to be spoiled like one. Just enjoy it.”

She turned her gaze forward, and Neil noticed the instrumentalists starting to file on stage. Some of them plucked at their instruments, warming up and adding to the muffled din of conversation in the theater.

Eventually the instrumentalists left the stage, however, and the lights started to dim.

Neil sat back in his seat, a little apprehensive despite Allison’s reassurances.

He clapped with everyone else, and when the applause died down, a man stepped onto the stage to announce the orchestra, and then the conductor.  
They applauded again, which Neil thought was a little unnecessary, and the orchestra got settled on the stage.

“Don’t clap until the conductor puts his hands down,” Allison whispered.

A silence held the audience captive when the conductor raised his baton.

[When the first notes started](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jm-rQHXGfmY) to softly fill the room, Neil’s breath caught. This was nothing like any of the music he’d ever heard before. His mother would rarely listen to any music, but when she did Neil had been too young to really remember anything other than a sensation of soft happiness as she hummed along.

This was different though. The music swept through the hall, holding Neil in rapture as the conductor passionately carried the orchestra through each swell and pause. This was not the headache-inducing pounding of music in the club.

Neil found himself leaning forward more and more until he was resting his chin on his forearms, leaning on the balcony and unable to tear his eyes away from the stage.

The players swayed with their instruments, their movement captivating and heart-wrenching. Neil felt like the conductor had stolen his breath and was holding it as he carried Neil with him through the journey of the song.

The last notes rang out and echoed into soft silence. The conductor held his hands up for a long moment in the ringing stillness, the duration of which Neil couldn’t breathe, and then he finally, slowly lowered them.

The audience burst into thunderous applause; the tension broken. Neil found himself wiping at tears in his eyes, to his embarrassment, and he turned to find Allison staring at him with an untraceable expression in her face.

“Was that it?” He asked, so softly he was half-sure Allison couldn’t hear him. “Is it already over?”

She smiled. “Oh, no. It’s only just started.”

 

Three days later, and Andrew came home to find Neil lying in bed on his back, eyes closed, headphones over his ears and MP3 player in his hands.

Andrew had never seen Neil like this, and he came over to join him on the bed.

Neil shuffled over easily for him, before handing Andrew a headphone. Andrew silently slid it in, and a soft classical song filled his ears.

He turned his head to look at Neil, who’d gone back to closing his eyes. Neil looked more relaxed than he ever usually did except in sleep; he looked younger for it, more at ease. As the song crescendoed, His eyebrows furrowed a little in emotion.

When the song finished, Neil turned his head so their noses were basically pressed together.

“It’s ‘[La damoiselle elue.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9fHmCE1ZWc4)’ Debussy,” Neil licked his lips. “I think he’s my favorite. So far.”

Andrew didn’t respond, but felt his stomach clench briefly at the open vulnerability on Neil’s face. He wanted to protect that; he wanted Neil to be able to look at him that way forever. It was still a frightening sensation sometimes.

“Do...do you want to keep listening?” Neil asked, and Andrew knew if he said no; got up and walked away, it would be fine. Neil would just shrug, and keep listening on his own.

It was for this reason that Andrew felt comfortable nodding, and closing his eyes after Neil did, and the next song started to play.

Andrew had never been one for classical music, but he didn’t hate this.

 

 

 

______________________________________________

 

 

 

  
Andrew Minyard was going to die. No, really. And Neil Josten was going to kill him.

He loitered in the locker room, contemplating the death that awaited him before he sighed and forced himself out onto the court.

It was there that he saw the thing that would kill him, and if he were a different man he would groan at the sight.

Neil Josten was on the court, laughing at something Matt had just said. His laughter, hard earned, came easier now, though still not as frequent as some of the Foxes would like. He was pulling at the object of Andrew’s frustration—his hair—and tying it up into a small, messy bun at the back of his head before pulling his orange bandana into place.

Honestly. It was too much.

The fact that Neil had made the decision to grow out his hair would have been the subject of good-natured mocking among the Foxes, except when Nicky had asked why he wanted to do it, Neil had responded simply,

“I’ve never been allowed to before.”

And everyone left him alone.

To be honest, Neil pulled the hair off in a way that few others probably could. He tucked it behind his ear when he studied, and pulled it up when he played Exy. Allison had jokingly gifted him with some pink hair clips, which Neil wore as a way to mess with her originally, and now occasionally wore because they were “practical.”

Either way, Andrew was slowly suffering because of the whole thing.

“Staring at your boy, Andrew?” Nicky asked teasingly, thankfully not loudly enough for Neil to hear.

“He’s not my anything,” Andrew protested softly, but no one believed him, and Nicky rolled his eyes.

“Sure, sure, whatever. He does look hot though—woah woah, I’m sorry! Sorry!” Nicky edged out of Andrew’s line of fire, but that didn’t stop Andrew from aiming his shots at him throughout practice.

 

 

Later that week Andrew finally snapped. He entered their dorm after class, and leaned against the door as he shut it.

Neil was asleep on the couch, curled into a ball. He wore an oversized sweater—Matt’s, probably, and those stupid short shorts and socks. And someone—probably Allison—had pulled his hair into a French braid.

Pieces of it were falling out softly, and it seemed to only add to the attractiveness of it all somehow. The fact that Neil’s mouth had fallen open slightly did nothing to detract from this.

Andrew closed his eyes for a moment, before dropping his bag, locking the door, and closing the difference between them in long strides, until he was standing right over his boyfriend.

Neil had stirred at the thump of Andrew’s bag hitting the floor, and now he blinked his eyes open slowly, smiling that smile that Andrew hated. “Hey.”

Andrew pursed his lips for a moment. Enough was enough. “Yes or no?”

Neil arched his eyebrows in surprise. “Yes, Andrew. Always yes.”

Andrew rolled his eyes at that always, before he carefully threaded his fingers through Neil’s hair and leaned down to press their lips together in a surprisingly gentle kiss.

Neil didn’t let it stay that way for long; he gently pushed at Andrew until Andrew stepped back, giving him room to stand and close the distance between them again.

This time they kissed like they usually did, like it was their first and last one together, like it was something they needed to live, which was ridiculous, but Andrew just couldn’t help himself.

Andrew stepped backwards, pulling Neil with him into their bedroom, until his legs hit the back of the bed, and he sat down, Neil chasing his lips as he went. He knew that the others wouldn’t be back for a while.

Andrew scooted back on the bed a little, breaking their kiss. But Neil didn’t follow them this time. It was breaking their protocol; Andrew was always, always on top when they were together. A little making out was ok like this, as long as Neil could keep space between them, but nothing further. And they both wanted to go further right now.

“What are you thinking?” Neil asked, always so careful of Andrew’s boundaries.

They had been ‘together’ (loathe as Andrew was to admit it) for about a year and a month. Neil’s sophomore year was going so much better than his first, now that he wasn’t planning to die and could actually relax and let himself enjoy things.

Andrew had let Neil in more than anyone else; he’d even let Neil touch him, eventually. They moved at a glacial pace, testing each other’s boundaries and slowly learning to trust each other implicitly. And there were still times when Andrew didn’t want Neil’s hands, or even his gaze.

It helped that Neil never assumed anything and was grateful for everything, anything Andrew could give him.

But they’d never done anything like this before.

Andrew was silent for a moment, knowing he had to be verbal about this. Silent affirmation wouldn’t be enough for Neil. It was the very reason they worked so well together.

“I want to try it. I think it’s ok.”

Neil searched his gaze for any sign that Andrew was pushing himself past his own boundaries, but found none. Slowly, so slowly, he started to move closer.  
Andrew adjusted until he was leaning back against the pillows, and Neil was straddling him, still keeping most of his weight off of Andrew.

Andrew took his hands, brought them to his shoulders.

“Where can I touch?” Neil’s voice was soft, almost reverent.

“Above the hips,” Andrew said, resting his own hands around Neil’s waist. He pulled gently until Neil settled his weight against Andrew fully, and leaned forward until their foreheads were pressed together.

“Mmm,” Neil sighed, and Andrew brought their lips together again, a slower heat than their earlier kiss.

This didn’t feel urgent. It felt slow and warm and nice. Neil didn’t really feel a need to go any further. If Andrew wanted to, he’d be perfectly content to just lie on top of Andrew like this for as long as Andrew wanted to.

Andrew’s tongue slipped between his lips, muffling the satisfied noise that rose up from Neil. He rubbed his thumbs in slow circles underneath Neil’s shirt, sending goosebumps up his sides and drawing a shiver from him.

That movement caused their hips to jostle together, and Neil froze. It felt so good; their erections pressed together a sweet relief even through the layers of clothes. But Andrew hadn’t said yes to that.

“Andrew?” Neil pulled back a little from Andrew’s lips, almost shivering again at the noise their mouths made when they separated.

Andrew was staring at him, and Neil searched his gaze for for any hesitation, but he only saw the heat Andrew saved for moments like these.

“It’s ok, Neil.” Andrew pushed his hips up against Neil’s, almost experimentally.

Neil’s head dropped to Andrew’s shoulder at sensation, and when Andrew did it again it drew a breathy moan from his lips. Andrew’s fingers cupped the back of Neil’s head, almost petting for a moment as he rolled again.

Neil pressed a hot, open-mouthed kiss to the side of his neck, savoring the aborted grunt Andrew gave him for it. He sucked eagerly at Andrew’s neck, not enough to leave a mark without permission, but enough to get a reaction.

Andrew pulled Neil’s head back by his hair, and slammed their lips together in another, much more urgent kiss.

Neil kept his own hips still, letting Andrew set the pace. It was clearly hard work; Andrew had one hand on the bed now to give him leverage and the other still pulling on Neil’s hair.

After a moment, he stopped, breathing hard. “Neil. You can move.”

Neil felt blood rushing through his body as he experimentally shifted his hips against Andrew’s. Andrew huffed a breath against his lips, and he moved his hips again, rolling them in small circles. Andrew’s free hand left the bed, and came between them.

“Yes or no, Neil?”

“Yes. Shit Andrew, yes.”

Andrew undid the zipper of Neil’s shorts, and then, to Neil’s utter shock, he undid his own pants.

“ Are you sure?”

Andrew locked his eyes with Neil, and pulled their cocks out, before taking both of them in one hand and starting up a steady rhythm.

“Oh-fuck! Andrew.” Neil’s hips were moving agin, more naturally this time.

They were breathing too hard to properly kiss, instead gasping wetly into each other’s mouths. Neil pressed his tongue against Andrew’s bottom lip, and his hips faltering at the short moan Andrew let out.

“Andrew, I’m close.” He gasped, undulating his hips desperately.

Andrew’s fingers tightened in his hair as his other hand squeezed them together.

Neil felt heat burning white hot in his gut. “Andrew, Andrew fuck fuck.”

He whined as his orgasm slammed into him. He felt Andrew’s rough moan against his mouth and felt the warm wetness of his own release. Their hips stuttered together as they came down together, Neil’s forehead pressed against Andrew’s neck and Andrew’s hands clenched in his shirt.

As Neil’s heart calmed down, he pulled away from Andrew, searching for any trace of panic on his face, but there was none.

“Do you need me to leave?” He asked softly.

Andrew nudged their noses together, pressing a soft kiss to Neil’s mouth, before gently pushing him off his lap so they were lying side by side. “No. But don’t touch until I say so.”

“Ok. So you like the hair, huh?” Neil teased, gesturing at his now-undone braid.

Andrew rolled his eyes, but reached out and tucked a piece behind his ear, which was answer enough.

**Author's Note:**

> I love the idea of Neil liking classical music since he doesn't like the typical music the others like. Also if you want to come cry about the Foxes with me I'm on [tumblr ](http://sabertoothhips.tumblr.com/)


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